


Cloudy Days and Sundays (Can't Quite Get Me Down)

by Raphiday



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: I hope you enjoy your gift!, M/M, VLD Summer Exchange, Wow this was fun to write!, and Shiro is mentioned, and some mild innuendo, the fact that Lance loves sharks and Keith loves hippos has made my day, there's some making out in there, there's some mild Hidge in there
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-15
Updated: 2017-08-15
Packaged: 2018-12-15 22:04:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,880
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11815098
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Raphiday/pseuds/Raphiday
Summary: A beach date gone wrong turns into a beach date done right as Keith and Lance are forced to alter their plans when faced with a cloudy day.  Keith cannot quite understand Lance's obsession with sharks, but loves his boyfriend anyway.  Written for the VLD Summer Exchange and as a gift for @paladinspride on Tumblr!





	Cloudy Days and Sundays (Can't Quite Get Me Down)

**Author's Note:**

> This is a gift for @paladinspride on Tumblr for the VLD Summer Exchange, and I am so happy it's done! I was inspired by this particular drawing it's utterly gorgeous! 
> 
> https://paladinspride.tumblr.com/post/160321716149/i-wanted-to-draw-something-soft-and-play-with

“Lance, you can stop pouting now.”

The aforementioned Lance was currently shivering, sitting with his knees to his chest, leaning on the surfboard he had brought, glaring at the cloudy sky and near-waveless ocean, and of course, pouting.

Granted, neither Keith nor Lance quite anticipated a foggy day in the middle of July, which Lance promptly pointed out as he whined, “It's a Sunday in the middle of July, and we were supposed to have a fantastic date at the beach because the Saturday crowds are gone, why the _fuck_ is it cold?!”

“Because the weather hates you specifically, Lance,” Keith deadpanned.  He noted Lance’s offended gasp at the very notion of anything hating him and smirked to himself; his boyfriend really was so easy to rile up.

“You know what, Keith–”

Keith simply shrugged and said, plopping down beside him, “Why are you so insistent on going into the water anyway?”

Lance’s face flushed as he turned to Keith and mumbled, “...wanted to impress you.”

Fondness spilled from Keith’s face at Lance’s sullen declaration, and he smiled more easily, leaning against Lance’s side and murmuring into his neck, “You wanted to impress me, huh?”

“Oh shut it, Keith, the waves were supposed to be huge today,” Lance said, unconsciously leaning into Keith’s touch, “Also I heard on the news that there were sharks in the water and I wanted to see if they'd come to me.”

Keith stilled; well _that_ certainly explained why there were so few people on the beach in the middle of summer, and of course, he thought with no small touch of affection, sharks in the water would bring his dangerously-shark-obsessed boyfriend to the beach like nothing else.  

He then got up and went to the car, gathering the picnic basket and a couple something-elses Lance couldn’t quite see.  Keith then grinned at him and said, “You know, there's nothing that says we can't have our date at the beach anyway.”

Lance raised an eyebrow and said, getting up to follow Keith, “What part of it’s freezing did you not get?”

“The part where I brought shirts for both of us,” he said. Keith then handed Lance the blue flannel shirt he so loved to see on him, and then shrugged on his own. 

Lance relaxed as the shirt began to warm him up and said, “How were you not shivering?”

“The desert got really cold at night,” Keith said, at last bringing the picnic basket out. He then raised an eyebrow when he saw Lance dragging Keith's surfboard from the back of their car.

“We’re probably not surfing, Lance, why are you bringing out my board?”

“You’ll see,” Lance said, also dragging out a blanket or three that he kept in the back of the car at all times ‘just in case we wanna snuggle’. He then proceeded to stick Keith's surfboard deep into the sand and a solid four feet away from Lance’s own beloved surfboard Blue, which to Keith's eternal surprise looked more like the Blue Lion from that Voltron show Lance tried to get him to watch than a shark. He then placed the smallest blanket between them, draped the largest one over them, and then wrapped the final one around himself.

It was only when Lance sat down and tapped the empty spot between him and Keith's surfboard, saying, “Bring the basket over here!” that Keith realized exactly what Lance had been doing.

Keith sat down beside him and pulled out their meal: Lance had insisted on making homemade Cubanos for them, to Keith’s eternal delight, and Keith in turn made a pastry-wrapped Brie with apricot jam (and some crackers for dipping) he had learned to make from the foster family he had stayed with before he had met Shiro and the Holts.

Speaking of Shiro, Lance’s eyes lit up at the bag of homemade flour tortilla chips and massive bowl of guacamole he had made for their picnic.  He happily dug into the bag of chips and said, taking a giant scoop of guacamole from the bowl, “I don’t know what deal with the devil Shiro made to make such fantastic guacamole, but thank him for me!”

Keith meanwhile was busy enjoying the sandwiches Lance had made, and if Lance proved a little too zealous in his affection for the chips and guacamole to notice Keith stealing half of Lance’s sandwich… well it was his loss.

“Best lunch ever,” Lance said a half-hour later as he scooped some apricot and pastry covered Brie onto a cracker and took a bite.  He then grabbed another cracker, made another scoop, and placed it to Keith’s lips.  “Want a bite?”

“Always,” Keith said, placing the whole cracker in his mouth.

“We should probably walk off this meal, especially since I know Hunk’s making a masterpiece for us for dinner tonight,” Lance said, getting up and reaching his hand out to Keith.  “We can also look out for sharks!”

Keith chuckled but got up anyway.  Lance promptly dashed to the ocean, and Keith cursed Lance’s long legs as he just barely succeeded at keeping up with him.  They walked by the waterside and talked about nothing important enough to mention, well, nothing as important as the intermingling of their hands and the love-soaked gazes they would cast upon each other.

“Even with the clouds in the sky it’s beautiful out here,” Keith said, reveling in the thrum of the waves and cadence of Lance’s voice; he had always preferred the quiet chirping of forests and the clarity of starry nights, but the background noise of ocean and Lance was a more than adequate substitute.

“You wanna know what _else_ is beautiful?” Lance said, his voice carrying that exact tone which infuriated Keith, because he could never quite tell if sincerity or comedy would follow it.

“Okay, if you say Shiro’s guacamole I’m gonna–”

“You,” Lance said earnestly, and fuck it, Keith was in love.  Thus, he turned Lance to him, gently grabbed Lance’s chin, closed his eyes and pulled him into a kiss.  It was soft and short, the simple meeting of lips and breath that still left him breathless every time.  

He pulled back, eyes still closed and hand still on Lance’s chin, and Lance looked fondly at him, pulling him closer, content in the fact that they were alone, well, at least on this stretch of the beach.  Lance then kissed Keith’s forehead, and Keith motioned to the still-pitched up blanket fort with a nod to his head.

Before Keith could even so much as turn his feet toward the fort, however, a telltale fin appeared in the water, and Lance’s eyes lit up. He then proceeded to dash back toward their boards, the fact that blankets were covering them all but forgotten, and Keith once again cursed his much shorter legs.

Keith somehow managed to tackle Lance inches from Blue, and said as he pinned Lance to the sand, “You are not going into the water to swim with sharks, Lance!”   _Especially when I want to make out with you damn it_ was the unspoken thought in Keith’s head.

Lance wriggled underneath him and, somehow managing to flip them (damn those ridiculously long legs of his), said, a victorious smirk on his face, “Five words, Keith. Los Angeles Zoo. Hippo encounter.”

Both the memory of that fateful day and the sight of Lance straddling him were working against Keith as his face turned bright red and he sputtered, “That was a year ago!”

Lance’s shit-eating grin got bigger and bigger as he said, “Oh I remember the cries of so many distraught children as you tried to hoard both Mara and baby Rosie’s affection for yourself–”

Keith was fully flustered as he said, “Lance you are the _worst–_ ”

Lance then began to sway side to side as he continued, “And then you nearly drowned when Mara thought you were getting too close to Rosie, and wait a second, _who_ saved you again?”

Keith at last found his chance, flipped them again, grabbed Lance’s hands to keep him from flipping then again, and said, knowing full well what would happen next, “The zookeeper.”

Lance stared at him askance, and, once again pouting, said, “Rude!  And also false!  You _know_ it was me that stopped Mara from mauling you to death, you–”

And then Keith once again took the chance presented to him and kissed Lance once again.  He felt his hands move away from Lance’s as the kiss went on, and Lance’s right hand played with Keith’s hair in just that way that made him groan into it.  Keith let his hands slip underneath Lance’s shirt, and the gasps he was rewarded with almost made him disappointed with himself when he slipped his tongue into that zealous mouth.  Almost.

This time it was Lance that pulled back, his face bright red as he said, looking down at Keith’s pants, “Wow, you’re _really_ happy to see me–”

Keith blurted out, “There’s something in my pocket!”

Lance tilted his head and asked, “Well what is it?”

Well _shit_.  Lance wasn’t supposed to know about the box in his pocket, why did Keith’s mouth always have to betray him like this, shit shit shit shit you know what _fuck_ it, “Actually yeah you’re right I am happy to see you.”

Lance raised an eyebrow and then shrugged, pulling Keith back into his arms.  Whatever secret Keith was hiding from him would be revealed in proper time.  As he peppered kisses all over Keith’s face, he said, nuzzling fondly into his neck, “Would you look at that, Keith, I’m cradling you in my arms this time.”

An hour of kisses and snuggles later, they looked at their watches and were surprised to find it was only an hour until the dinner Hunk was hosting.  Thus, they frantically took down the surfboards and blanket fort, and after one last lookout for sharks, they made to leave the beach.  

Lance grinned as he said, “Hunk and Pidge are hosting a bonfire at their place tonight, and I will make you recognize that dark chocolate is clearly the superior s’more chocolate." 

Keith snorted and said, “Don't tamper with a classic, Lance, milk chocolate’s been the signature s’more chocolate for a reason.”

Lance wrapped an arm around Keith’s shoulders and said, “I can't believe that while you’ve accepted Hunk’s superior graham crackers and homemade marshmallows, you still adhere to milk chocolate. What a shame, dark chocolate is clearly more delicious and better for you too–”

Keith shrugged and said, “Granted, neither of us use the bittersweet chocolate ganache Hunk and Pidge recommend, so ‘What Hunk and Pidge say’ isn’t always the culinary word of God here–”

“Pidge puts peanut butter on her s’mores, Keith.   _Peanut butter_.”

The fight regarding s’mores continued all the way from the beach to their car and even to Hunk and Pidge’s very doorstep, and Keith would fully admit he reveled a bit too much in the bickering he and his boyfriend got into.  Two years together and he still never got tired of saying that.  Well, Keith thought happily to himself as he fiddled with the ring in his pocket, perhaps by the end of the night he’d get to call Lance his fiancé.  



End file.
